


Christmas Is Different In Space

by s2039 (ka_tsu_ra)



Series: Merry Spacemas! [2]
Category: Captain Harlock
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 13:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ka_tsu_ra/pseuds/s2039
Summary: After a night of winding down, Harlock finds the crew have collaborated to make Christmas morning special for the children on board. That's all well and good, but Tochiro is nervous for some reason.[Part 2 of my apparently annual Tochiha posting habit. Read part 1 first if you haven't already. Both set after SSX 10]





	Christmas Is Different In Space

Harlock had never made sleeping in his habit. Even coming out a deep, drunk sleep, he came awake with a start when knocks came calling from the doors to his cabin. If he was asleep and someone needed him urgently enough to disturb him, something was always wrong. It was early, still, and something had gone terribly wrong.

A light hand on his head cut the crisis reaction short before Harlock's brain could fully shake sleep off.

“I got it.” Tochiro slipped off the edge of the bed pushed the pillow he'd confiscated into Harlock's arms. “Who goes there?”

Harlock cuddled down on the pillow, set at ease, when the casual reply came: “Eh? Tochiro-san? You're still here?”

Tochiro flinched and hurried to the door to poke his face out and, Harlock could only assume, glare at Tadashi. “First, that's none of your business. Second, what are you kids doing up and around?”

“Breakfast's done,” Tadashi said. He peered around Tochiro and Harlock sat up to look a little more presentable for his sailors.

“And Santa came back!” Revi called from behind him, her tiny voice high and loud like a kettle whistle and just as pressurized.

Once the wine had smoothed his heart over, Harlock had wondered if this might happen. So many of the pirates were missing their own children or denied the opportunity to establish family lives since the Illumidas drove humanity back to Earth. Having children aboard had changed a lot of them in subtle ways.

“Tochiro,” Harlock said. Tochiro yipped and turned his head to him. “Will you go with the children while I take care of some business. I'll catch up shortly.”

“But you have to come celebrate with us!” Revi called.

Tochiro huffed and wedged himself out the cracked door, shoving the kids along as he went. “He will, now get!”

The only business Harlock had to do early on Christmas morning was personal. Washing up, brushing his teeth and his hair, changing into fresh clothes. Tochiro would get to the same in his own time, but Harlock know he wasn't inconveniencing him any by delaying that. Incredible or not, which Tochiro certainly was, he had a habit of neglecting himself.

Poor Mr. Bird met Harlock in the corridor. He flip-flopped up to Harlock, squawking pitifully and jangling merrily. Someone – the children or some older crewmen who got silly with enough drink – had hooped bells around his neck and his feet and tied his beak with a voluminous red ribbon.

“Oh, my.” Harlock crouched down to pin Bird's wings to his sides and hoist him up. “This is practically cruel.”

“Nope, nope, nope!” Mr. Bird warbled, kicking his jingly feet frantically and lashing his neck around.

Harlock huffed and dropped him, and he strutted a way's down the corridor. “You just wanted to show off, is that it?”

“Please~ Please~ This way~”

Smiling, Harlock followed until a clatter and muttering down a connecting corridor stole his attention. He looked around the corner while Mr. Bird continued on. Tochiro was fuming around just outside his workshop. Harlock's smile flattened.

“What's the matter?” he asked, approaching Tochiro's turned back.

Tochiro jumped, spun around, and snarled to himself. “Something's missing from my room.”

“Ah.” Harlock stepped into the doorway. “I'll help you look, if you like.”

Tension around his shoulders pulled him back an inch. Tochiro was hauling on the back of his cloak. “No, no, no, that's fine,” he rattled. “It'll turn up. It's fine. Let's go eat.”

Harlock looked over his shoulder and down. “You're sure?”

“Positive.” Tochiro took his hands off Harlock's cloak and put them behind his head. He chortled stiffly as he turned around. “Come on. I need some food in my stomach before the hangover catches up with me.”

He let Tochiro lead him. “Christmas breakfasts tend to do the trick for that,” he said. “Though I can't be sure what Tadashi's decided to make for us.”

“It'll be good, whatever it is.” Tochiro hummed thoughtfully. “I should probably help him with the New Year stuff. He might say my cooking's lousy, but making him do that stuff on his own seems unfair.”

“He'll appreciate it regardless, I'm sure,” Harlock said.

They emerged into the common room to the sight of the tree all lit up and surrounded with gifts, and to the sound of staggered but enthused cries of “Morning!” and “Merry Christmas, captain!” and “About time!”

At some point, probably in an impressive burst of drunken motivation, the crew had mobilized to uncouple the secured sofas from the walls and gather up every folding chair and no fewer than two little low tables, drape them with whatever red or green or white throws and blankets they could scrounge, and to crowd the whole mess around the tree. The same pirates were strewn across their improvised family living room, some forty men and women in varying states of hung over and drowsy looking as pleased as the kids ping ponging between members of their assembled family and the boxes around the tree. Some held mugs filled from the big pot at the center of one of the tables, some stuffed their faces from the platters surrounding it, some sang, and some just hung liquidly over sofa arms.

Tochiro cackled, and Harlock let a genuine smile break over his face.

Revi broke away from the revelry to fling her arms around Harlock's knees. “Captain!” she exclaimed, beaming up at him. “Are you feeling better?”

“Hm?” He patted her head. “Yes, Revi, I've been fine all along.”

Revi blinked and let his knees go. “Oh. Tochiro said you were tired and might not come out for a while. I was worried you caught my cold.”

“No, no. Yesterday was a stressful day, that's all.” Harlock put a hand on her shoulder and turned her around. He cast a smile at Tochiro as he herded her back to the tree. “Come on, let's see what else Santa brought for you.”

He was tired, but not unpleasantly so. While Revi scattered to the stack of boxes and the other pirates crowded around her, he slumped onto a vacant sofa and let Tadashi dutifully bring him a plate of food and a cup of sweet coffee. Breakfast was rich and conveniently room temperature: pastries full of sausage, and almond cakes small enough to eat in two or three bites.

Tochiro put them away in one. He joined Harlock on the sofa and munched away, looking vaguely distracted. He kept looking up from his plate and scanning the room.

“I doubt anyone was in your room last night,” Harlock said. “The crew respect you, even drunk.”

“Well, uh.” Tochiro ducked his head. “Yeah, you're right. I probably just... set it down someplace and got distracted and forgot.”

“Or Mii knocked it behind your work table,” Harlock offered. He leaned over and forked a pastry onto Tochiro's plate. “Here, don't just eat sweets.”

“Hmph!” Tochiro chomped the protruding sausage end and grinned. “Who do you think you are, my mom?”

“Only your friend looking out for you,” Harlock said. “You'll regret it if the drink catches up with you and you've only got sugar in your stomach.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tochiro scarfed the rest of the pastry down and rose to get two more, one of which he rolled onto Harlock's plate.

They ate slowly after that, in relative silence compared to the spectacle of the children shredding paper and the pirates crowing over their happiness. Tadashi was no less happy than Revi, even if the crew had conspired to bring him mostly fresh clothes he'd have to be cajoled into wearing and equipment to make his cooking job easier.

Kei tied new ribbons in Revi's hair and walked her around to show off to everyone.

At one point Revi unwrapped a hooded blue cloak and, in the middle of modeling it, dissolved into tears because there wasn't any point in having something cute and warm to wear when she never got to leave the ship anyway. On cue, four big men most commonly in charge of the starboard guns got down around her and started making promises to escort her and the doctor out to make snowmen the very first chance that arose.

“Hey, Harlock?” Tochiro said, drawing his attention away from the scene.

“Yes?”

“The way you grew up doing Christmas, did only the kids get presents?”

“No.” Harlock touched the rim of his mug to his lips, remembered the coffee had gone cold, and thought better of drinking any more. “My father always had a present for my mother, for instance, and it's not uncommon for friends to give each other small things.”

He should have gotten Tochiro something. It simply never occurred to him before.

“Um, Tochiro-san?” Tadashi stepped up to them with a half-wrapped box in his hands.

“Eh? What's up?” Tochiro leaned forward, then whistled. “Ho, a self-powered radio set. Santa was generous to you after all.”

Tadashi fidgeted. “I, uh, think I'm too old for Santa to bring me stuff anymore.” That made Harlock smile. Tadashi was too old to buy into the myth like Revi, but he'd caught on to the importance of playing along quickly. “It says it's from engineer Sully, but she's asleep. Can you show me how to set it up?”

“Sure thing.” Tochiro hopped off the couch and followed Tadashi to the table. “Go ahead and have a nap yourself, Harlock, the couch is all yours.”

“I've slept enough, my friend,” Harlock lied. He swept his foot through the paper scattered in front of the couch and went to sit on the floor at the table and refresh his coffee.

The recreation room was, at that point, what one might call an absolutely jubilant mess. Dancing pirates and running children had scattered the paper and ribbons all over the floor and no one was keeping track of their breakfast dishes. Revi had dutifully consolidated her new clothes and what toys she wasn't playing with in an armchair, but Tadashi had established several loose jumbles of spoils around the tree. Once the adults shook out of their hangovers, Harlock would give the order to clean up.

Until then, the mess was fine. Homey, even, and familiar. He'd had himself convinced for two years that he wouldn't experience it again, much less from the perspective of an adult onlooker.

Once, he'd had very reasonable hopes that he would. He shook his head and filled his mouth with coffee that was just barely too hot.

This was enough, even if it was different from what he'd envisioned in his last life.

“Oh, hey,” Revi piped up. “I almost forgot!”

Harlock glanced over at where she was rummaging under the lowest boughs of the Christmas tree. She had tinsel mingled in with the bows she got from Kei, and a little red box clutched in her hands. It was so small it must have gotten nudged out of sight and forgotten.

Kei unfolded from where she'd tucked up in a lounge chair, pushing up the sleeves of the sweater she wore so infrequently since joining the crew. “What is it, Revi?” She crouched down. “Did Santa forget something?”

“The captain has to open his present, too,” Revi said. She shimmied out from under the tree, wobbled a little, and dashed over to deliver the little box to Harlock.

Every set of eyes not weighted down with sleep or distracted by shiny new toys was on them now, and Harlock smiled wider for that. He took the little box very delicately. It was wrapped so neatly and carefully that he didn't want to offend her by mistreating it.

“Oh, Revi, thank you.” If he said 'You shouldn't have,' she might be heartbroken. He turned it over in his hands. “You did this yourself?”

Revi puffed up her cheeks. “It's not from me, it's from Santa.” She poked the little tag tied to the ribbon, which said simply, 'For Harlock.'

Now, Tochiro and Tadashi had looked up from the half-assembled radio set. Both looked, for reasons Harlock couldn't work out, somewhat horrified.

“Revi-” Tadashi began, before Tochiro gave a panicked yelp and cut him off.

“Who the heck went in my room!”

Tadashi jumped and jabbed a finger in Revi's direction. “Revi found it, not me!”

Revi shrunk. “It was in the galley, by the almond cookie things Tadashi made,” she said. “Was I supposed to leave it there?”

“No, I'm certain it's fine,” Harlock said, hoping to head off another storm of tears. He looked to Tochiro, who was shifting from one foot to the other and starting to sweat. “Tochiro, this is from you, isn't it?”

Tochiro ducked his chin to his chest. “Y- yeah. I guess I left it someplace outside my room and got distracted after all.”

“May I open it?” Harlock asked.

Tochiro came over and plunked down on the floor in front of him. “Sure, fine, do it.”

Harlock frowned. “I'm happy to wait, if you want.”

“Just open it, jeez!” Tochiro lifted his red face and snapped. He folded his arms over his chest petulantly. “I'm gonna self-combust if I have to just look at it all morning, so go ahead.”

“If you're sure,” Harlock said, warily, as he pulled the tag and ribbon off. He pulled the glove off his right hand so he could poke the trim nail of his thumb into the thin paper and run a seam under the lid of the wrapped box.

Revi, Kei, Tadashi, and a handful of crew who'd managed to stay awake crowded around as the paper fell away. Tochiro compressed himself even tighter into a white dwarf of pure embarrassment.

“A jeweler's box?” Kei mumbled, leaning over Harlock's right shoulder.

Revi planted her hands on his left to peer over. “Heeeh?”

Tochiro made a sound like someone grinding a cat, which Harlock endeavored to ignore.

The lid gave some perfunctory resistance before popping open to uncover a simple, shiny silver band with a gold shield set flush in the center and a skull and crossbones set in black within that. Harlock's chest expanded in something like a slow gasp.

“Ah, it's so pretty!” Revi declared.

“No it's not,” Tadashi put in, hastily, the first thing he'd said since he gathered with the others.

“I don't see what's wrong with calling it pretty,” Harlock said. He pinched the broad band and lifted it out, setting the box aside. “My friend, this is very impressive work.”

“I mean, I guess,” Tochiro sputtered. He moved closer, talked faster. “It's really just casting and tooling and stuff, and I do smaller work with circuits and stuff all the time. It's really- You know. You don't get bad eyes like mine doing work like that.”

Harlock smiled gently. “It's lovely, and I'm very grateful.” He had to try a couple fingers before he found a comfortable fit for the ring. He admired it against his skin, his smile unfading. “It's an honor to have something you put your skill and your heart into that I can have with me at all times.”

“W- well, you're welcome.”

Revi had scooped up the box, now, and busied herself with examining it. “There's a note, too.”

Tochiro squeaked and snapped out a hand to retrieve the box. “That's- I. Uh. That's secret, for Harlock to read later.”

“Secret?” Tadashi asked.

“Yes,” Harlock said. He took the box, note and all, from Tochiro. He didn't need an explanation, and pressing for one would feel cruel besides. He got up and offered his free hand to Tochiro. “Well, that's all the gifts opened and distributed. You, Tadashi and Revi, should pick your things up and go play somewhere else so the adults can rest. They'll have a lot of work to do once they wake up.”

Tochiro's hand was clammy and wet in Harlock's, but he didn't resist being pulled to his feet. He batted tinsel and stray bits of tape off himself. “As for me, I'm gonna catch a shower and see about scrounging up some parts to supplement that kit Tadashi got.” He spun on his heel to go, but paused. “Uh, glad you like your gift, Harlock. Sorry I forgot to bring it last night.”

“No worries,” Harlock said to his back as he hurried out. By the sound of his steps, he broke into a run the instant he got around a corner and out of sight.

Pushing down a laugh, Harlock cupped his gloved hand over the one he'd chosen to wear the ring on and twisted the band. His heart beat hard but sweetly behind his ribs, and it was hard not to feel obviously incandescent.

_My friend,_

_This is short, but I needed to write it down because it's hard for me to say to your face without stopping to put myself down or make jokes._

_It should go without saying when you're talking to someone you've known for what counts as lifetimes, but you're really precious to me._

_I knew you the second I saw you because I'd been missing you my whole life. Hell, maybe I'd been missing you for entire lives. Don't laugh, but I always feel like it's the same for you. The same way I can just feel and know other things about you. It makes sense that I can read you, doesn't it? I've known you for a thousand years._

_Anyway. We only run into Emeraldas from time to time, and that suits me fine, but I don't ever want to be apart from you like that. Just designing this dumb ring from reference in our retrieved memories kept breaking my heart because I kept going back to that riverbank in my head. I don't want anything like some stupid war to separate us again._

_It feels wrong to say I know you feel that way, too, but I hope you do._

_P.S. I said this would be short and look how much I wrote. Jeez. Sorry._

Harlock cried over the little letter Tochiro had typed and folded up tight in the ring box. Not long or loud, just a slow flow of tears that he didn't bother to contain because he was alone and still felt brittle from the previous day.

He didn't even feel bad so much as he felt... so much. It was simply a lot to feel. He composed himself, which never took long, and wrote his own note to slide under the door to Tochiro's workshop.

_Please meet me in my cabin after dinner._

_I still have to give you your present._

_-Harlock_

That evening, he ate in private and spent the half hour between his hasty meal and the creak at his door re-reading the letter and feeling the ring through his glove. He put on a warm smile when Tochiro stepped inside.

“Good evening.”

Tochiro toed the door shut. “Hey.” He raised the bottle he'd brought with him. “You got champagne glasses?”

“I have something that might suffice,” Harlock said, rising from the chair behind his desk to go to the cabinet. He felt... bouncy, crossing the room. It was strange, distantly familiar in a way that wasn't bitter at all. “Have a seat.”

“I kinda need leverage to get this open without beaning you in the back of the head with the cork, so I'm gonna stand for now,” Tochiro said.

Harlock returned with two glasses – plus a tea towel for Tochiro to muzzle the mouth of the bottle – and went to sit in the armchair nearer to his bed. Tochiro followed with the hissing bottle in his hands. The green glass was all fogged up with condensation. He'd probably snatched it from the galley cooler right before taking off for Harlock's cabin.

They poured for one another and toasted wordlessly. Once Tochiro drained his first glass, he pulled the little table up between Harlock's chair and the edge of his bed so that he could sit on the bed and rest his glass safely. Over the next half hour, they worked through half the bottle in peaceful silence.

“So,” Tochiro finally said. “What'd you get me?”

Harlock got to his feet in the same purposeful, inappropriately imposing way he always did, and Tochiro gulped. It wasn't Harlock's fault he was huge and tended to look moderately menacing whenever he moved with enthusiasm. He was excited. Internally, he was practically effervescent.

He stooped down by the bed and lifted the glass out of Tochiro's hand to set it aside.

“Uh. Harlock?”

Harlock kissed him, lightly at first and then more deeply when Tochiro's twitching fingers found his shoulders and took hold when he could have just pushed him away. He planted his hands on either side of Tochiro to support himself and opened his mouth in an invitation Tochiro took with characteristic enthusiasm.

Just like Christmas morning, agreeing to spend the rest of his life with someone wasn't the same as he'd imagined it would be. There was no ceremony, only one ring, and no family by blood anywhere to be seen. Living the lives they led, there was none of the security such an arrangement normally granted.

Still. There had been cake, and there was champagne, and the stars looking in on their defiance against a thousand years of separation were beautiful. Harlock was luminous with joy. It was different, and it was more than good.

 

**Author's Note:**

> yelling_bird dot jpeg


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